The Condor Couple · Conversa

Late spring in Jiaxing. The willow catkins by the shores of Nanhu Lake fluttered in the air, sticking to the spiderwebs by the roadside, as white as a ground covered in mourning clothes. Inside the pink-walled courtyard of the Lu Manor, Lu Liding was dividing a silk handkerchief in two, tying them around the necks of Cheng Ying and Lu Wushuang. His fingertips trembled, taking two tries to tie them tight. Madam Lu wept beside them, clutching her younger daughter's hand so hard her knuckles turned white. At the crossroads of the official road outside the manor, a gaunt, scrawny youth squatted on a dirt mound. He was about thirteen years old, dressed in tattered rags, holding a handful of wild edamame pods he had picked, shelling them one by one and tossing them into his mouth. He squinted toward the Lu Manor—that house was exceptionally quiet today, so quiet it made the back of his neck feel cold. The sound of hoofbeats came from the west. He turned to look; a young girl of about nine, wearing a goose-yellow shirt, sat atop a date-red horse. She wore bright pearls around her neck and fine clothes. Following behind the horse on both sides were two boys, one in purple robes and one in blue, vying to offer their concerns. "Sister Fu, are you thirsty?" "Sister Fu, are you hungry?" The girl couldn't be bothered to pay them any mind, looking around on her own. When her gaze swept over the filthy boy on the dirt mound, her lips curled downward, and she immediately turned her head away, as if looking at him for even a second longer was bad luck. The boy flicked an edamame bean into his mouth and grinned nonchalantly. He was all too familiar with that kind of look; he'd seen it his whole life, seen enough to be full. The three passed below the mound. The boys in purple and blue were still arguing over handing her a water skin, not watching their step. The boy in blue tripped over a stone, and the water skin fell to the ground, rolling half a turn. The girl turned back and huffed, "Clumsy." Squatting on the mound, the boy saw it all clearly and couldn't help but burst out laughing. Before the laughter faded, a song drifted from the direction of Nanhu Lake—a woman's voice, leisurely, like a poem yet like a lament: "Ask the world... what love is... that it commands life and death to be pledged..." The singing was close, yet no one could be seen. The date-red horse suddenly snorted, its four hooves recoiling. The girl's face turned pale instantly, and she yanked the reins: "Go!" The horse's hooves kicked up a trail of dust, and in an instant, it had galloped half a mile away. The two boys scrambled to follow, the purple-robed one not even daring to stop when he lost a shoe. The boy stood up from the dirt mound, brushed the bean shells off his hands, and jumped down. The singing was still drifting, closer and closer, as if being sung right against his ear. He looked back—by the reed beds, a Daoist nun in green had appeared at some unknown time, the white silk of her fly-whisk swaying slightly in the wind like a snake's tongue. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the conversation</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the plot</choice> </choice_group>